Table Head
by Lovelorn Lindsey
Summary: LOL WUT?


**Title:** Table Head**  
Fandom:** Penguins of Madagascar**  
Pairing(s):** Julien/Skipper**  
Warning:** Homosexuality, furries**  
Summary:** :|

* * *

As Skipper prattled on about one thing or another (probably old war stories) over the chessboard, Kowalski was checking and re-checking his moves. Frankly, he hadn't lost a game of chess to Skipper since their first day together, and he didn't want to disrupt his winning streak with such trivialities as Julien this, and Julien that. To the untrained eye, it almost appeared as though Skipper was _obsessed_ with the gray furred mammal. But that was quite impossible—or, would the correct term be improbable?

It was true that Skipper disliked Julien—a fact, really—but was it really possible that there was something more under the surface? If Kowalski scratched just a little deeper, would he be surprised? It was hard to tell.

"Hello neighbor!" Julien bounded through the hatch as if he owned the place (for in his mind, he did). "We came over for tea time!"

Skipper sputtered angrily as Kowalski looked on in relative calm. "What? Tea time is for the British and stuck up higher levels, lower mammal. Get out of here!"

Private twirled his flipper uneasily—wasn't he British? Or was it English? It didn't matter. Private liked tea. "Um, if you don't mind, Skippah, I think it'd be lovely if I could have tea with the lemurs."

Predictable, Kowalski smiled softly as Rico immediate vouched for this "tea time." Any chance for a delay in afternoon training. "I think I'd enjoy a small respite, as well, sir…if you don't mind?"

"You boys _know_ there's training! It's the same time every day," Skipper slapped one wing into another, "you'd have to hit your head pretty hard to forget, even _Rico_ couldn't've forgotten." He eyed the scarred penguin meaningfully.

Rico snorted and crossed his arms while Kowalski patted him only slightly. "But I see you're all very set on this…_'tea time'_…so, go ahead. I expect you all back at 1300 hours, though—understood?"

"Ahhaha! Up top, up top! I already had Maurice set it all up—it's so cute and lacy." Julien frowned as Rico hacked at the word, but continued. "…anyway, come, come! I know you'll appreciate it, roly-poly." His wriggling tail was the last seen appendage as he flitted up the ladder. The three penguins followed up after him dutifully.

Kowalski paused, and turned slyly to Skipper, "I remembered where all the pieces were set, sir, just so you know…" As Skipper growled dangerously, Kowalski chuckled and hurried up before he was attacked with whatever was closest to the much smaller penguin.

Finally alone, Skipper fell to his bottom, still sitting in front of the chessboard. Did Kowalski really memorize the piece's positions? Skipper wouldn't put it past the intellectual, even though he really doubted it. In most cases, Kowalski said things like that to get his goat, but it wasn't easy to be sure, so he set aside the board the way it was.

Tea time his tail feathers, it sounded more like a rave than anything. The thought of striking the ceiling with a broom handle made itself known, but he ultimately thought no more of it, believing it was too cliché, even for him. Half an hour into the supposed tea time, the hatch opened, then closed. Skipper peered at the clock. 1200 hours—he didn't expect them back until 1300 hours. Unless he misspoke.

"Come back for another round of pain, Kowalski?" he miffed, folding his flippers over his chest. He paused as a doily was laid over his head, and blinked when a weight struck him from above. It felt like…what? A bottle of some sort? With his luck, it was probably a tea cup. "…Kowal—"

"Nope!"

Skipper sighed, "Ringtail. What are you doing?"

Juien scoffed, "Having tea, of course. The others are busy, so they won't be noticing that I'm gone until the last of my radiance fades." He paused thoughtfully, "Your flat head makes a nice table."

Flustered, Skipper shook angrily. "I'm _no_ table, _Julien_."

"Of course not!" Julien smiled and lightly caressed the penguin's flat melon. "You're better!"

At even the thought of such a gentle caress coming from Julien—of all animals!—Skipper lurched away, holding the saucer in his flippers as if some kind of defense. "What is it that you want?"

"My _tea_." Julien mumbled, wrapping his tail around his waist broodingly, unused to being so thoughtlessly rejected. Skipper huffed, but tossed it at the lemur without spilling a drop. Or, without spilling a drop until it came into contact with Julien's fumbling paws. The tea—which smelled of herbs and lavender, Skipper duly noted—washed over Julien's poor, clean hide. "AWWW! Look at what you have been done-ing! Doing!" Tears of resentment sprang to his eyes.

"…" Skipper sighed and slumped, already feeling guilty for his rebuffing actions and said the first thing that came to mind, "Oops?"

Julien suddenly giggled under his breath, wiping his paws through the matting fur on his chest and tail and cautiously wiping his eyes. "I need my brush, table head."

Skipper bristled, fluffing the feathers around his neck. "_Table he_—never mind." He took a deep breath. "I suppose I can walk you back to your habitat." He offered lamely, unsure about whether or not that was something he was obligated to do after spilling liquid on another animal's being.

"Awright!" Julien agreed almost too quickly and stripped the doily from Skipper's head in a swift movement of his arms. "Might want to be taking that off—your people would call you a pansy, pansy!"

Skipper grumbled darkly, but complied. "Pansy my…" he followed him out of the HQ, told his boys where he would be, and trailed after Julien uncertainly. Once they arrived at their destination, Skipper was ready to leave. "There—I escorted you here, happy now?"

Julien shrugged feebly and Skipper sighed. "What more could you want, man?" Julien rolled his yellow eyes and made for his throne, bounding in vaguely flirtatious way. Skipper glanced around furtively for enemies, mostly out of habit than out of paranoia (or perhaps it was a mixture of both). "I'm not grooming you, if that's what you're implying, ringtail!"

"PFFFT, no!" Julien snorted rudely, pulling at a pink brush and wiping it just once through his quickly knotting pelt. "OWCH!" he cried, tearing up once more, but went ahead and began to pull the bristles through anyway as Skipper shook his head at the discomfiting sounds. Skipper sighed and hauled himself to Julien's side. In a movement Julien hadn't dared to hope for, Skipper was holding the brush and offering to do it instead. Julien grinned and nodded, reverting to Malagasy (language in Madagascar), "Misaotra*."

"Yeah, whatever." Skipper muttered (having no idea what the word meant) and combed tenderly through the proclaimed lemur king's fur.

~END~

Now, get the Hell outta here! :(

Just kidding, I love you.

*kiss*

* * *

A/N: What, Skipper has a flat head!  
*thank you


End file.
